Derry - Londonderry - Doire

With a name like that it is easy to see why Derry-Londonderry was awarded the title of European City of Culture 2012. For a city that has had such a troubled past it has not let anything hold it back and, as I discovered, the people certainly know how to party.

The reception we received on Monday was incredible and there were well wishers alongside us in their boats before we even reached sight of the city. As we motored in, one boat at a time, up the River Foyle all we could hear were the crowds cheering us in. Considering we were due in over the weekend, the turnout was more than impressive and it transpired the mayoress had declared Monday a public holiday to ensure we received a warm welcome.

On top of the maritime festival, public holiday and crowds of spectators there was another reason for me to enjoy my time in Derry-Londonderry. I telephoned my parents on the way into port and they told me they were enjoying another glorious morning at home in Devon; which I completely bought. Little did I realise they had taken a scenic motorbike ride up to the very top of Northern Ireland to surprise me! Asides from Beijing, this is the furthest my parents have travelled to see me and what a lovely welcome it was.

The six nights on dry land could have been spent partying nonstop but after a couple of nights I was ready to escape and headed down to Belfast to enjoy some quiet time with friends. My last two days have been busy preparing the boat and attending briefings about briefings. I cannot believe it is time to start the next race already - Den Helder here we come.

The Moment of Truth

A sitting duck - that was how I felt during the last few hours of this race. It was down to the tacticians, the wind gods and dare I say it a certain amount of luck to decide where we would finish. As crew all we could do was sit and wait. We were instructed to put all of our weight on the far left side close to the bow in order to obtain the most efficient position through the water. The skipper requested that we all remained focused and kept up our effort; this was certainly a different type of focus and effort to what I was used to as an athlete.

It is hard to believe that after racing for sixteen days the last few hours of sailing could still change the top six positions. For us (Jamaica Get All Right) it had seemed ours to lose at the half way point as we collected three extra points for crossing the scoring gate in front of the field. A few brave decisions on the course cost us dearly and proved to be a gamble that frustratingly did not pay off. All of this information was coming to us via satellite until twenty four hours ago when we caught sight of one of the opposition. By race finish today three other yachts were in view as we watched with baited breath debating among ourselves whether we were in front or behind. This could sound obvious but I have discovered nothing in ocean sailing is obvious.

I personally felt moving my position by a few metres was unlikely to make the required difference. It is impossible to prove but all of us moving that distance must have had an impact. One of our sturdier crew members even took his effort one step further and whilst remaining within the rules with his feet inside he used his weight and leant out as far as possible. The clock struck twelve and we knew there was nothing else we could have done.

The suspense was painful. Varying theories were being thrown around, some more positive than others. Our target had been the podium and four hours ago, when in fourth place, it had seemed feasible as we were consistently gaining on the front runners with hardly a thought for those behind us. As the positions were calculated it started to dawn on us that we were actually fighting for those smaller places and suddenly we were desperate for that fourth place. Silence swept the deck when it was revealed we had devastatingly dropped to sixth. On the chart we had equalled Great Britain’s distance to the finish yet been awarded the place behind them due to a rule the race organisers adopt in the case of a tie. After sailing over three thousand miles it seemed incomprehensible that we could have matched our rivals to the metre but we were not ready to accept defeat. On closer inspection, and the use of a further decimal point, those extra efforts had paid off. We had beaten Great Britain by a mere three boat lengths. Suddenly fifth place and those valuable extra points felt like a victory. On a personal level I must admit - beating compatriot and England Rugby player Ollie Philips into fifth place and successfully sailing across the North Atlantic Ocean deserves a celebration.

The Final Countdown

The race is suddenly on. Technically it has been for the last fortnight although that has been difficult to keep sight of at times. We have been making our way across the Atlantic with nothing but updates on a computer chart to remind us we are racing eleven other teams to the finish line in Londonderry. Due to the relatively light winds that have been blowing in an unfavourable direction, this finish line has become unattainable in the time limit allowed.

In my early days as a multi-sport competitor the swimming event was a set time length rather than distance. We had to swim as far as possible in three minutes. I always found this harder to pace than a straight two hundred metre race and however much I practised I would still always be able to sprint those last ten seconds. This transatlantic crossing began as a 2950 mile endurance race and has turned into a twelve hour sprint. Clipper Race Control have decided to calculate the results at midday today by plotting each boats distance from the original finish line. I've discovered on this race that there really is no such thing as plain sailing and the wind conditions mean the final few hours will be very tactical indeed.

Being part of a team on such a big boat, it is sometimes difficult to feel your input is making that difference but right now everyone is making that extra little effort in whatever way they can. We are now poised on the edge of our seats or I should say the edge of the port (left) side of the boat in order to optimise our speed. It is literally a waiting game. The question is: is it too little too late?

Day 13 – Unlucky for some...

It is almost two weeks since we left land. The tensions on Jamaica Get All Right have started to rise and for the first time I have noticed a negative mood on board. This could be due to the way I go about my work (in a bit of a 'bubble') or the fact we are actually a good team who work well together – probably a mixture of both.

The largest contributor to this mood change was our race position as overnight we seem to have lost our impressive lead. The winds have been relatively light and therefore the race has become quite tactical. Our skipper was the first to admit he got it wrong and misjudged the wind. This news dramatically dampened the team spirit even though we all know that this is the nature of ocean racing. Coming from a sport in which positions can change dramatically right up until the finish line, I am one to never give up although others found this news harder to digest. The sea can be a cruel mistress.

Unfortunately for me I soon had another reason to be less cheerful as the sea state increased again. I thought I had suffered more than my quota of seasickness and come out the other side. Whether it was a repeat performance or a stomach bug I'm still not sure but once again I felt truly awful. The combination of feeling rough and being extremely tired resulted in a greatly diminished sense of humour.

I was lying on my stomach on the high side of the deck desperately focusing on the horizon when out of the blue came a freak wave which soaked me from head to toe. In my desperation to escape for fresh air, I had not only forgotten to put my full waterproofs on but also left my port hole open. The result was disastrous: not only was I wet through but so was a crew member from the other watch sleeping innocently in her bed. The chances of a wave coming over the high side and finding its was into a bunk were amazingly slim although this did nothing to console the soaked victim. I admitted my mistake to our watch leader who suggested I keep schtüm for the time being.

Having survived my six hour watch with only minutes to go until bedtime I was confronted by the wave victim. I tried to explain that I had suffered too and offered an apology. It may sound trivial but at that moment I would have leapt at the chance to jump ship.

Thankfully that low point already seems far behind me and we are back on course - Londonderry beckons.

Happy Hour

The morning before our grand departure from North Cove Marina in downtown New York we had our third and final briefing. With all of the sixteen crew plus our skipper it was our final chance to contemplate what might be ahead of us; not that anything would have changed my mind by this stage. That was, until I heard about “growlers”, “The Perfect Storm” and the “Titanic”.

Admittedly it sounded as though the skipper was just trying to make us laugh. I did manage a small nervous smile but mainly because I had no idea what he was talking about. From my teenage years I have fond memories watching Kate Winslet and Leonardo Dicaprio in Titanic, with the wind flowing through their hair and Celine Dion crooning in the background adding to the romance of the blockbuster film. I was, however, too swept up in the Titanic's romance story to fully comprehend the details of that fatal night other than I knew an iceberg somewhere in the Atlantic had been the cause. It therefore came as quite a surprise when our planned route passed just north of the mark where the infamous cruise liner sank one hundred years ago.

This apparently tied in with the warning of growlers. It turns out they are not a type of angry sea animal but small pieces of ice that have broken free. When I say small, I mean the size of an average car and definitely substantial enough to cause some serious damage to a seventy foot racing yacht – or so we were told.

These facts hardly seemed significant especially when on day four I was still in my shorts, but then overnight it changed. Suddenly I had on all of my layers and sat shivering on deck whilst scanning the chilly waters for potentially dangerous growlers. I am pleased to say we have passed through the danger zone and left the sites of the two aforementioned film tragedies in our wake.

On a lighter note the skipper mentioned in his brief that every day we would be rewarded with a “happy hour” at one of the watch changeovers. He continued to explain that it rarely lasts an hour and actually isn't even always that happy. I must admit the point of it was lost on me until yesterday. We combined a birthday, the improving weather and most importantly a win through the first Scoring Gate as an excuse to be happy for a whole hour.

It took us just over a week to reach this celebratory milestone yet this shouldn't cause you concern - we are in good spirits far too regularly to celebrate it daily.

Decorating the Deck

I learnt through sport to always take the rough with the smooth but that did not help me to prepare for the real Atlantic. The Caribbean weather and spirit is now but a distant memory. I had started to worry as after each day of mirror flat sea came another beautiful sunrise with more perfect cruising conditions – the longer this lasted the more shocking the contrast was going to be and sure enough, it was too good to be true. After four days of topping up my tan, reading my book and being cooked for there was a dramatic change; reality hit.

Along came the Atlantic I had heard about - the temperatures suddenly dropped overnight as the wind and sea state began to build. This was what I was expecting and had signed up for; it is supposed to be a race after all. With the change in conditions came a change in pace. Suddenly there was work to be done and I had a chance to make myself useful.

Unfortunately my body had other ideas and pulled a pretty good get out of work card in the form of seasickness. I was determined not to be defeated but I had a fight on my hands. After any small amount of exertion, whether that was helping to change a sail or even just putting on my wet weather gear, I had to hang my head over the side. Sadly I did not always make it and have to admit I succeeded in decorating the deck a couple of times. Once looking at the horizon with the fresh air on my face all would seem fine again, as would lying in my bunk, but it was the effort getting from one to the other that I cannot describe.

During my time hugging the toilet basin something occurred to me. I had always wondered why the “bathroom” on a boat was known as “the heads”? My personal conclusion: it is down to the fact that your head is likely to spend as much time there as any other part of your body when at sea – I am open to any other suggestions.

I had just started to recover and managed my first small meal. I thought at last I could make myself useful. Alas the one small task that was asked of me only succeeded in adding to the previous decoration albeit in a slightly different way. I tripped on deck and spilt sausage grease all over the ropes. I thought I had made a good job of cleaning it up with the help of a few waves until the skipper muttered something. Apparently he had presumed it was the result of some more seasickness but then felt the grease on his fingers. The rest of my watch kindly covered for me but I had to confess.

Thankfully we are only just half way so I still have time to redeem myself.

The Calm Before the Storm

Heather Fell is currently competing in Race 14 from New York to Londonderry of the Clipper Round the World Yacht Race as part of Team Jamaica Get Alright.

The nerves have suddenly kicked in. Due to problems with my visa, just getting out to join the Clipper Race has been such a rollercoaster ride that I feel exhausted and drained of all emotion. I arrived in New York only thirty six hours ago and felt nothing. I was dropped at North Cove Marina to meet the Clipper team and felt so unappreciative when they asked how excited I was; I was numb. I put it down to jet lag but in hindsight I realise it was nerves. As an athlete I would yawn continuously and always sleep on the bus on the way to the venues. I think it must be a coping strategy. After an afternoon nap and two undisturbed sleeps the reality of the task ahead is finally dawning on me and about time too as we are one hour away from leaving land and won’t see it again for another two and a half weeks.

I am doing my best to commit to paper how I feel. Right now it is excitement - I just want to get going and find out what is in store. I've heard enough and it varies from "it'll be the best experience of you life" through to "you've no idea what you've let yourself in for". It’s time to find out for myself.

Everyone else seems to be doing jobs right now. I've offered to help and hate being a spare part so thought I'd get out of the way and have a moment to myself. There’s a hubbub of activity on all the surrounding boats and the skippers are all away at the final briefing. I get the feeling Jamaica - Get All Right (the boat I'm on) is laid back. We have had meetings the last two mornings and, afraid of doing anything wrong, I've been sat ready on the dot waiting to go as the crew arrive in dribs and drabs over the course of the next thirty minutes. I'm certainly not complaining as it’s allowed me a moment to reflect on what has happened the past few weeks. I genuinely can’t believe that I’m about to sail across the Atlantic!